And now YOU’RE on the war-path. She heard him crash against it, and turned the key in the lock. “John! Welcome! Happy Thanksgiving!” Cathy cried, ushering him deeper into the house. This person, whose age might be about forty, was attired in a brown double-breasted frieze coat, with very wide skirts, and a very narrow collar; a light drugget waistcoat, with pockets reaching to the knees; black plush breeches; grey worsted hose; and shoes with round toes, wooden heels, and high quarters, fastened by small silver buckles. One of them was a stout square-built man, with a singularly swarthy complexion, and harsh forbidding features. The delay was only momentary. Wants me to look out for you a bit. Before you know where you are you find yourself in a complication. "Have you been more successful, Sir?" ventured Ireton. But we're neglecting the punch all this time.
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